Finding Solace
by extra-ter2estrial
Summary: Shared grief bridges two worlds. JOTT (friendship) WIP
1. Changeling

Title: Finding Solace  
Author: extra_ter2estrial  
Pairing: S/J friendship  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Shared grief bridges two worlds.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel and Warner Bros. I don't own them (though I wished I did).

Author's note: Finding Solace is set in the early years of the institute, which examines the building of the unique relationship between Scott and Jean. Deals with their origins and stuff, which I will strictly stick to the established comic canon.

On a side note, I've replaced chapter three of "Change" -- A New Beginning, but ff.net still registers it as having last updated 9/13.

***

Chapter One: Changeling

            "Mom!" Sarah shrieked at the top of her voice. "Jean's at it again!"

            Elaine Grey was in the kitchen, washing dishes. Sarah was in the living room watching TV, and John Grey reading the newspapers.

            "Mom! I think this one's serious! It's grandmama's..."

            Elaine poked her head into the doorway, just in time to witness an antique vase crash onto the floor. "Jean! John, do something!" Angrily, she stormed over.

            "What did I do to deserve a freak for a sister? I swear the fairie folk replaced her with a changeling!"

            "Sarah, quit it!"

            "Great dad, now you're siding with 'Daddy's Little Girl'! That's it, I'm heading over to Sandra's where I can at least watch some decent TV!"

            "Sarah! Get back here!" John bellowed. The front door slammed shut.

            Across the living room, under the stairs, Jean hid, curled up in a foetal position. Tormented by Sarah's taunts, the wails got louder as items were hurled about in the air. The telephone smashed through the window. The TV remote landed in the fish tank. The lights flickered on and off eerily. John jumped off his arm chair just as it lifted itself into the air. The couch followed, and started twirling in the air.

            "Jean! Stop it right now do you hear me! I said STOP!" Elaine proceeded to swat her on the arm with the dish cloth.

            John caught Elaine's raised arm. "That's enough! She's just a child for God's sake Elaine!"

            "A disobedient one in fact!" Elaine glared at her husband. "I thought I told you to stay in your room!"

            The uncontrolled sobbing got louder. "STOP IT! Stop shouting! It hurts!" Jean grabbed her head in her hands and buried it between her knees, choking on her tears.

            John swiftly picked Jean up in his arms, and proceeded up the stairs. 

            "Where are you taking her?!"

            "To her room that's where!"

            "I'll go call Charles. She's becoming too much to handle."

***

            "Shh...it's okay princess, everything's going to be alright."

            "No, everything's not okay. The voices, they're getting louder. Make them go away! Make them stop!" Jean cried out and crawled under the blanket. "Please daddy, just make them go away..."

            "Look, Charles is on his way, he'll make you feel better all over again, just like last time..."

            "I don't wanna feel better!" Jean lashed out angrily. "I just want it to go away. I want to be normal like Sarah, not a freak! They hate me. You all hate me! Everyone hates me!"

            "You know that's not true Jean. We all love you very much..."

            Jean's sobs grew louder. John was at his wit's end, and just settled for rubbing Jean's back, hoping to soothe and calm her down.

            "Why don't you try to go to sleep? It might make you feel better?" John lay Jean down and tucked her into bed. "I'll go see how your mother's doing."

            "Don't go daddy, please." Jean's frail hand reached out to brush John's fingers.

            "Alright, alright." He sat down beside Jean, patting her head until she fell into sweet slumber. He took a look around Jean's room. The closet doors were hanging on its hinges. The walls were dented, with pencils sticking out from them. The curtains have been ripped from their rails again. Books were clattered all over the floor. He sighed. Elaine was right, they were losing control of Jean. And they did not know what was truly wrong with her.

            Jean's breathing evened out as she slept peacefully. John closed the door quietly behind him.

***

            "I'm really sorry Elaine, but I simply have too many things to handle at the moment. I will fix a schedule to attend to Jean first thing tomorrow morning."

            "You don't understand Charles. She needs you now. Her condition just got worse, she's losing control again."

            Elaine caught sight of her husband coming down the stairs. She shot him a desperate look.

            "Mrs. Grey?"

            "I'm sorry Charles, what was that again?"

            "I must apologise but I have other students to see to right now..."

            "What can be more important than Jean?! I don't care what it takes, I just want you to get here right now!"

            "Elaine, let's be civil here. I'll handle this." Elaine handed John the telephone.

            "I apologise for Elaine's behaviour. She's too emotionally distraught. Charles, my baby girl's very sick, and I can do nothing for her condition. It just pains me to see her like this. Please Charles, for her sake."

            A pause on the line. "Alright. Seven this evening?"

            "Thank you Charles. I really appreciate it."

            "So?"

            "He's coming at seven."

            "Thank God for that."

***

            The clock in the hallway read seven-thirty. Charles Xavier had not yet arrived. An anxious Elaine Grey paced the living room. John Grey sat perfectly still in his arm chair, with a book in his lap.

            "Elaine, would you stop pacing and calm down?"

            "How do you expect me to calm down John? Jean's condition has worsened, and Sarah refuses to step into this house until Jean is cured of her mutation."

            "So where's Sarah now?" John's voice grew grave.

            "She's still over at Sandra's. She called just to inform me she'll be sleeping over tonight."

            "I'll have a word with that young lady when she gets home tomorrow." John returned to his reading.

            "John, would you stop it already?! Everything you do, everything you say is all about Jean. How about sparing a thought for Sarah? She's your daughter too you know? And she deserves equal attention and devotion from her father."

            "What about Jean then? The poor girl's frightened to the death!"

            "Just because Jean's different doesn't mean..."

            At that instant, the doorbell rang.

            "I'll get it. It must be Charles." Elaine rose indignantly and shot her husband a glare, before regaining her composure.

            "Charles, it's nice to see you again." Elaine graciously greeted Charles Xavier.

            "I must apologise for my tardiness. Something uncalled for happened at the institute."

            "Institute?"

            "Yes, my Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Oh, and this lady here is one of the instructors at the institute. Mrs Grey, meet Ororo Munroe." Xavier gestured to the white-haired woman on his right.

            "Pleased to meet you Mrs Grey."

            "My pleasure, Ms Munroe." Elaine stepped aside to let the visitors in. "Please, this way."

            Elaine led Xavier and Ororo into the living room. John stood to greet them.

            "Ah, Charles. And how are you?" John shook Xavier's hand.

            "Fine, thank you, Mr Grey."

            "Please, call me John. And this is?"

            "Ororo Munroe, Mr Grey."

            "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Ms Munroe." Ororo accepted John's handshake.

            Niceties aside, Xavier proceeded to address the matter at hand.

            "I believed you arranged for this evening to discuss Jean's condition."

            Deciding to leave this conversation to her husband, she rose from her seat on the couch. "Would you care for tea Charles? And Ms Munroe?"

            "Tea would be splendid for Ms Munroe and myself, Elaine."

            Elaine disappeared into the kitchen.

            "Now, as we were saying?" Xavier re-addressed the issue.

            "Yes, Jean. My daughter claims to be hearing voices again, even after the treatment you gave her just last month. And her...telekinesis acted up again." John shifted, uncomfortable dealing with such terms.

            "Ms Grey is currently experiencing a growth in her telepathic and telekinetic abilities."

            "So, is there any way to stop this...this mutation process?" John pressed on.

            "You have to understand, John, that mutation is not a disease. It cannot be cured, only cultivated. In time, with proper training, Jean will be able to exercise her gifts effectively."

            John leaned back into his arm chair and steepled his fingers, analysing Xavier's words.

            "Thus, I am also considering enrolling Jean into my school for the gifted. I simply cannot make time anymore to give Jean private tutoring sessions. What we are seeing here of this mutant phenomenon is just the tip of the iceberg. I suspect there are more children out there who need my help, just like Jean does. At the institute, I can assure you Jean will be provided with the best care. Speaking of which, where is the child now?"

            "She's asleep in her room. So, this institute, is like a private school?"

            "Of sorts. We merely act as a sanctuary for these gifted children, teaching them how to control their gifts. They will attend a public high school at Bayville." This time, it was Ororo who interjected. "Many of these children are runaways, outcasts..." There was a slight tinge of anger and sadness in her voice. "...with no one to turn to, except us."

            "Ms Munroe is quite right in this aspect. My first student, also currently housed in the institute, was orphaned, and had lived on the streets for awhile, until I took him under my wing."

            Elaine, who by now have entered the living room, sat the tea tray on the coffee table. Ororo reached for two cups of tea, handing one to Xavier.

            "There is no way I am letting Jean be enrolled in a school which houses delinquents."

            "I assure you Elaine that that is not the case. Scott...er young master Summers is recovering at a tremendous rate. He is a really interesting young lad." Xavier mused, recalling the earlier incident in his office which resulted in a verbal disagreement.

            But Elaine was still not convinced. Just then, a bloodcurdling scream could be heard, coming from upstairs.

***

            The three adults (Jean's parents and Ororo) raced upstairs, to find a horrified Jean levitating a few feet over her bed. Various items flew in dizzy circles, hovering over her head. The frightened child burst into tears. Upon seeing the four adults, she suddenly fell back onto her bed with a loud thump. The objects followed, raining all over her room. John rushed over to hold the shivering Jean in his arms. 

            "What happened?"

            "Everything just..." Jean fainted mid-sentence.

            "Jean? Jean?!" Elaine stood at the doorway, speechless.

            "Please. Mr and Mrs Grey, let us handle this."

            When Jean awoke, she was laid on the couch in the living room. There was cold sweat on her forehead. She tried to sit up, but felt too dizzy to do so. Ororo helped prop her up against some cushions.

            "Who are you?" Jean asked meekly, and retreated to a corner, knees folded into her chest.

            "It's alright my dear." Xavier wheeled towards her slowly. "This here is Ms Munroe. She is a mutant, just like you. And she is a teacher at my school for gifted youngsters."

            "You mean freaks, like me."

            "I would think none of it Jean." _We must learn to accept our gifts as blessings, not curses._ Xavier smiled as he sent telepathically.

            Jean's eyes widened at that as she looked up at Xavier. _You're just like me._ Jean focused real hard to relay that back to Xavier.

            _Not too loud, Jean._ Xavier rubbed his temples.

            "I'm sorry..." Jean was ready to burst into tears again.

            "No child, I'm not angry with you." Xavier tried to calm Jean down.

            "You aren't?" A lone tear slid down her pale cheek as she held back a sniffle.

            "Why would we be?" Ororo spoke reassuringly, and reached out to hold Jean to her. Jean shifted into Ororo's warm, welcoming embrace.

            "Everyone else is." Jean looked out the window. "I'm scared." Dark thunderclouds began to gather.

            "We are not 'everyone else' Jean. We are people who care."

            "Really?"

            "We are here for you child, no matter what."

            Xavier smiled, witnessing two of his students bonding over their differences. Slowly, he wheeled out of sight, into the dining area where John and Elaine sat.

***

            Jean remained in Ororo's embrace for awhile, until she finally spoke.

            "What are you? I mean, what are your powers? I'm telepathic and telekinetic."

            "I can control the weather."

            "You mean you can turn winter into summer? Cool!"

            Ororo laughed lightly, which caused Jean to frown a little, embarrassed. "No, that's beyond my capabilities. I merely manipulate the current weather conditions. I prefer not to meddle with Mother Nature if given the choice." Ororo held out her hand, and with a flick of her wrist, the dark thunderclouds seemed to vanish, exposing once more the clear night sky.

            "Wow. That's still way cooler than what I can do. I can only hear voices and break stuff."

            "You will learn child, in time to control your gifts. I took a long time before I could accomplish such a simple task, dismiss storm clouds, I mean." Ororo gave Jean a grin, showing off her pearly whites. "The professor took me in when I was a child, living on the streets in Cairo. He taught me how to accept and appreciate all that I am. That somehow, I have been blessed with such gifts to help make this world a better place."

            "So how do you make this world a better place?"

            _Better save the details for later, _Ororo thought. _We'll start small._

            "I'm a teacher at the professor's school. He helped me, and now I'm returning the favour, helping others like me, like you."

            Jean looked up and gave Ororo a small, albeit weak, smile.

            "Now that's much better."

            "So, about this school, about the students..." Jean asked, curious.

            "We actually have only one student enrolled currently. But we are expecting more in time to come."

            "You mean there're more of us out there?" Ororo had finally captured the child's interest.

            "More than any of us can imagine. The professor predicts the number of mutants will be increasing at an exponential rate...I mean, at a very fast rate."

            "Oh. Tell me more about the school."

***

            "So Charles, can you tell us more about this, so called school of yours?" Elaine spoke sternly, looking Xavier in the eye.

            "I established this school for the gifted, so I can help those like Jean control their gifts. Mutations normally manifest at puberty, and unlike _normal_ children, they have to cope with their new abilities, as well as growing up. Mutations are usually triggered during periods of heightened emotional stress, leaving these children traumatised most of the time, like Jean's experience which left her in a catatonic state for awhile. At the institute, I would be able to devote more time to helping Jean, without sacrificing that of my other students."

            "So, what of your _other_ student?" Elaine eyed Xavier intently.

            "Elaine, we're here to discuss what's best for Jean. The institute seems like a viable option."

            "I am thinking of Jean's well-being. I just don't want Jean to end up mixing with bad company."

            "I can assure you Scott has a heart of gold. The boy's just a little shaken, but he is coping well."

            "I don't know Charles."

            John held up a hand. "Why not we let Jean have a say in this?"

            "I couldn't agree more John." Xavier leaned forward.

***

            "So, are all mutants good, or are there bad mutants out there too?" Jean asked.

            Just then, her parents and Xavier entered the living room.

            "Jean, you gave us quite a scare. Are you feeling better?" Elaine came to sit by her daughter's side, and patted her back. Jean nodded.

            "Jean, how would you like to go to this special school..."

            "For people just like me? Ororo here was just telling me all about it. It sounds really great!" Jean beamed.

            "Jean, mind your manners."

            "It's alright Mrs Grey. I don't mind it much. Jean can call me Ororo if she pleases."

            "Can I go, daddy, please? I want to learn, and like Or...Ms Munroe, help others just like me. And I want to meet the other mutants." Elaine cringed at that statement, but Jean continued. "Ms Munroe says all our gifts are unique, and I want to see what others can do. It'll be lotsa fun!"

            "Well then, I guess it's settled. We will be entrusting Jean in your hands." John reached out to give Xavier a firm, business-like handshake.

***

            Three weeks later, Jean was packed and ready to go. She was really excited and nervous at the same time.

            "Jean, did you pack your sweaters?"

            "Yes Mom."

            John was loading Jean's bags into the trunk of the car.

            "Now remember to be careful when you're there."

            "Yes Mom."

            "Stay away from those naughty children, you got that?"

            "Jean!" John called from the driveway. "We had better get going or we will be late!"

            "Bye Mom, I've gotta go."

            Elaine drew Jean into a final goodbye hug.

            "I'm sorry about everything. I love you."

            "I love you too Jean."

            John started the engine just as Jean ambled down the porch. "Coming dad!" Jean got into the front passenger seat and put on her seat belt.

            "Ready?"

            Jean took a deep breath. "Let's go dad."


	2. Message in a Bottle

Title: Finding Solace  
Author: extra_ter2estrial  
Pairing: S/J friendship  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Shared grief bridges two worlds.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel and Warner Bros. I don't own them (though I wished I did).

Author's note: Before you go ahead and scream, I know I am straying somewhat from the comic canon (specifically Evolution).

***

Chapter Two: Message in a Bottle

            Scott Summers was in a decisively bad mood today. He stomped up and down the mansion all day long, leaving a trail of loud, funny noises in his wake.

            Logan watched the kid in amusement. "What's up kid? What's havin' ya so upset today?"

            Scott was halfway through his sandwich at lunch. He mumbled something incoherent. 

***

            Scott had come to the institute over a year ago. It was a chilly winter's night, and it was by chance that Charles Xavier chanced upon Scott Summers via his Cerebro probing sessions. Wandering blind, Scott had run away from the orphanage in Nebraska, and ended up in a small town. Begging and stealing had survived him for the past few months prior to when Xavier had found him. On that fateful night, an old lady pressed a ten dollar note into Scott's palm. That act of kindness landed him into trouble with some street thugs, who sought nothing more than to pick on the weak.

            "Well lookit here, the little blind boy landed himself some real cash." One of the thugs snatched the dollar note from Scott's grasp.

            "Give it back!" Scott groped futilely, grabbing nothing but handfuls of the cold night air.

            "Finder's keepers." The thug dangled the note in front of Scott's nose. Scott sniffed the air, and immediately reached out. The thug held the note at arm's length.

            "Give it back!" Scott was bordering on pleading. He was really hungry and wanted nothing more but warm bread and shelter right now.

            "Whatcha gonna do? Throw something at me?" Another taunted him.

            "I could if I wanted to!" Scott was fighting to keep his anger back. If only they knew what he was really capable of. 

            "Come on kid! Gimme your best shot!" The first thug sneered. He positioned himself into a fighter's stance, and held his fists up.

            Scott reached up to his blindfold, but the second thug grabbed him from behind. The first thug landed a hard punch into Scott's ribs. Scott buckled and winced in pain. He landed a second blow to Scott's nose. The second thug threw him face-first forcefully onto the snow-covered ground. The impact had sent Scott's blindfold flying.

            "That'll teach you to mess with us!" The second thug held Scott's head up by the hair and spat into his face. But the next thing the thug knew, a mysterious force sent him crashing into some trash bins a good twenty feet or so away. Scott immediately closed his eyes, and covered them with his palms.

            "What the f*** did you just do to him?" The first thug was quivering. It showed through his voice. 

            Scott just smirked and wiped at his bloody, broken nose.

            "Freak!" The first thug retreated slowly. The second picked himself up and ran in the direction of the first. They disappeared into an alley.

            Scott reached forward and felt for his precious note, when suddenly he felt the cold air whip up and around him, followed by the peculiar sound of a jet landing in a distance. His father had been an air force pilot, and Scott had learned to recognise the sound of a SR-71; a blackbird.

            He crouched and huddled into a protective ball, hands wrapped around himself to shield most of his body from the bitter wind. People approached him. The first had light footsteps, followed by another with heavier footsteps. The wind died down.

            Scott felt a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched instinctively.

            "Relax kid, 'Ro ain't gonna hurt ya," it was a man who spoke.

            "We're here to help." The lady named "Ro" spoke.

            "You're not another of those social workers are you? I don't wanna go back to the orphanage!" Scott backed away and snapped.

            "We ain't from some orphanage kid," the man spoke again.

            "We know all about you. We are here to help." Her voice was reassuring.

            "How do you know about me? You're from the FBI or somethin' right?" Scott's voice was bordering on a snicker.

            "You've been watching too many X-Files kid."

            "Logan!"

            "Fine, go ahead and make fun of the blind kid. What do you want with me?"

            "We want to offer you a home Scott." "Ro" spoke gently.

            "I don't have a home. Nobody wants to adopt a freak like me."

            "But we do know of an elderly gentleman who does."

            It took nearly an hour of coaxing before Scott agreed to be flown off to meet this elderly gentleman in Bayville.

            "Here," "Ro" handed him a blanket to Scott who was huddled in his seat by the window. She sat down beside him.

            "I'm Ororo. Logan's the one piloting." Scott ignored her, eyes still squeezed shut. He was still shivering.

            "Are you still cold? Do you want more blankets?"

            "I don't need your pity," Scott stated curtly.

            "This ain't pity kid. We take care of our own kind." "Logan" responded.

            "So all of you are freaks, just like me."

            "We are just like you Scott, but we are not freaks. We are just...different."

            The rest of the journey was continued in silence. Scott was lulled into slumber by the monotonous hum of the jet.

***

            The next morning, Scott awoke in a nice warm bed. He stretched. The bed was huge. Absently, his fingers found their way to his face. At least they had bothered to replace his blindfold. He did not want to risk destroying other people's property.

            "Good morning Mr Summers. I take it that you had a good night's rest?"

            "Who are you? Where am I?"

            "Scott," the familiar feminine voice spoke again. "This is the elderly gentleman I told you about. His name is Charles Xavier."

            Scott sat up. His sides were bandaged, and his nose plastered.

            "You are in my school for the gifted." Charles Xavier spoke.

            Scott snickered. "A school for freaks."

            "I tend to think of my students as talented individuals. You, Scott, have been blessed with one."

            "So tell me, what is it that I do?"

            "Your mutation, is the ability to fire red concussive beams, force beams, from your eyes. But due to the nature of the injury you suffered in an accident as a child, you are not able to fully control the extent of your powers. You can't turn it 'off', so to speak."

            "Sounds more like a curse to me. So that's what we freaks are called -- mutants."      

            Charles Xavier decided he needed time before he could break through the shell of the frightened child. "Ororo, see to it that Scott gets a good breakfast." With that, he wheeled out of the room.

            "Breakfast is downstairs in the kitchen." Ororo spoke as she laid a fresh change of clothing on the bed. "I'll leave you to shower, then come and get you in ten minutes. The bathroom is on your right, ten feet from the bed. There's soap on the counter by the sink, and the bathtub behind it. Call if you need anything. I'll be waiting outside." Ororo closed the door quietly behind her.

            It had been ages since Scott last took a decent shower. He scrubbed himself vigorously from head to toe in the steaming shower, until his skin was nearly raw. After a good fifteen minutes, he finally stepped out and dried himself.

            "Scott, is everything alright?" Ororo knocked on the door. She said ten minutes, but Scott knew he took longer than that.

            "I'm fine," he answered. "I need a little more time."

            "Take as long as you need. I'll just wait right here."

            When Scott stepped out of his room, it was almost thirty minutes. Ororo led him by the hand down to the kitchen. She sat him at the table, and went to get his breakfast.

            "Mornin' kid."

            "Logan, you will not smoke that thing in here," Ororo's voice was raised slightly.

            "See ya around kid," Logan got up and headed out the back door to smoke his cigar outside.

            "Here," Ororo lay Scott's breakfast in front of him. "Eggs, bacon, sausages and potatoes. And milk."

            Scott mumbled a "thanks" and dug in.

            "Slow down or you'll choke yourself."

            But Scott had not tasted food this good for as long as he could remember. He got three helpings of breakfast that morning.

            It pained Ororo to see how starved and malnutritioned Scott actually was. He was literally a bag of bones, and his lanky frame earned him the nickname "Slim".

***

            "So, ya heard of the new student arriving today?"

            "Yeah. And it's a girl." Scott sulked and returned to his sandwich.

            "So that's what it's all about, Slim's afraid of a little girl." Logan laughed.

            "Am not!" Scott retaliated. "Girls are no fun at all. Why can't the new student be a guy?"

            "Well. 'Ro's a girl."

            "Ororo's different. Besides, she's an adult. She's my teacher and I respect that."

            "So what makes her any different from 'Ro?"

            "This one's going to be trouble. I can feel it." Scott shrugged. He had suddenly lost his appetite and put his sandwich down on its plate.

            "Ya ain't psychic, how ya supposed to know?"

            "I just know." An annoying little thing called intuition told him so. "I'm going to take a walk around, enjoy the peace while I still can." Scott stalked out.

            Logan sat at the table and shook his head.

***

            It was around four in the afternoon that the new student had finally arrived. Scott hid in the shadows of the hallway of the second floor, overlooking the foyer.

            Ororo and Xavier greeted the visitors -- a little redheaded girl, and a tall man in a suit, most probably her father.       "Ah, welcome to my Institute for the Gifted, Mr Grey. I think Jean will find her stay quite enjoyable here."

            "Wow! This place is huge!" The petite girl was dressed in what seemed to be her best Sunday dress, complete with a hat to match. Scott merely rolled his eyes behind his shades at the sight of that. _Great.__ Their new student was a little spoiled rich kid. Unknowingly, Scott projected that thought._

            Jean picked it up, and so did Xavier. Her glance flickered to the second floor, and caught sight of Scott's shades, which oddly seemed to glow.

            _Scott, come and meet our new student. Don't be rude._

_            Not right now sir, I just want to be alone._

_            Scott, I insist._ Xavier demanded. With that, Scott trudged down the stairs, a huge frown on his face.

            "I would like you to meet my first student, Scott Summers. Scott, this is Jean Grey."

            "Hi." The redhead beamed, and offered her right hand.

            Scott stared at her hand as if it was going to attack him. He barely managed a "hi".

            "Scott's usually a little shy around strangers. Scott, would you be so kind as to assist Ms Munroe with Jean's luggage?"

            Scott obliged and grabbed the nearest suitcase, hauling it up the stairs, following Ororo to Jean's room.

            "Thank you Scott. Now, if you will come with me, Mr Grey, Jean."

***

            Scott stopped short of Jean's door and left her luggage outside.

            "Scott, why aren't you coming in?" Ororo stepped out and brought the suitcase into the room.

            Scott peered in. "It's a girl's room. I don't want to have anything to do with it, or her."

            "Come now Scott, let's not be hostile here. We're here to make friends, and to help one another."

            "So what's her mutation?"

            "Jean's telepathic and telekinetic."

            "Like the professor?"

            "In a way, though her telepathy is a slight variation. Don't ask me how, they're all the same to me."

            Scott looked on as Ororo arranged Jean's luggage in a neat row by the window. He looked across the hallway. His room was at the other end of the long corridor.

***

            "This here is the common study area, and beyond that, the library." Xavier led John and Jean through the mansion's corridors and up the elevator to the second floor, where the dormitories were.

            "Regarding the sleeping arrangements..."

            "The dormitories are divided into the boy's wing, and the girl's wing. Rest assured Mr Grey, there are strict rules."

            Ororo approached them. "Jean's room is ready Charles."

            "Thank you Ororo. Jean, please follow Ms Munroe to your room. Mr Grey and I have some legal matters to settle."

            Ororo got Jean settled in as Scott wandered the corridors. He found Logan in the garage working on his motorcycle.

            "How ya holding up kid?"

            "She's a redhead." Scott plopped on a workbench and sighed.

            "So?" Logan looked up and wiped his hands on a rag.

            "Redheads are definitely trouble." Scott groaned.

            "All kids are trouble." Logan grinned and made his way over to Scott.

            "Have ya tried getting to know her? People aren't what ya think they are, most of the time."

            "I still think she's trouble."

            "Suit yerself kid. I'm going for a ride."

            Scott was left sulking and wandering once more. He finally wound up in the library, curled in a corner, reading till the bell sounded for dinner.

            _Finally. Scott thought this day was never going to end._

            This time round, dinner was served in the dining room. Scott took a seat at the far end of the table, avoiding the rest. 

            "Scott, why don't you come sit with us?" Ororo patted the table beside her. Reluctantly, Scott rose and sat down beside Ororo. He lifted his head, and found himself sitting across the table from Jean. He groaned, and nearly dropped his face into his food. _Why me? Scott wondered._

            Jean was giggling from across the table.

            "Jean, don't be rude." John reprimanded.

            "Sorry daddy, but he had that funny look on his face."

            Slightly embarrassed, Scott rose and headed for the kitchen. To no one in particular, he announced, "I'm going to eat in the kitchen." To Jean, he stuck his tongue out.

            Scott was still playing with his food by the time Ororo entered, with a pile of dishes.

            "Scott, what's wrong? Has Jean offended you in any way?"

            "She laughed at me." Scott sulked.

            "She just thought you funny. There's nothing wrong with that."

            Scott pushed his plate away. "I'm going up to my room."

            "Scott..."

***

            "Scott?" Ororo rapped twice on Scott's door.

            Scott was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. 

            "Scott?" At Ororo's insistent knocking, Scott finally got up to open the door.

            "What do you want?" He saw Ororo standing in the doorway, with Jean. Still angry, he almost slammed the door on them both.

            "Jean just wanted to apologise for dinner." Ororo nudged Jean.            

            "I really sorry about dinner." Jean held out her hand. "Friends?"

            Scott stood with his hands in his pockets. "Whatever. Goodnight." He closed the door.

            "Apology accepted?" Jean turned to ask Ororo.

            "I guess." Ororo shrugged. Tomorrow, she was going to have a talk with Scott.

***

            Scott arrived late for breakfast, the next morning, hoping to miss the redhead. It was a Sunday. 

            Picking up Scott's still foul mood, Ororo remained silent as Scott sat down beside her.

            "Where's Jean?"

            "She's having a session with the professor."

            "Good." Scott picked at his breakfast.

            "Scott, why are you being so..."

            "Aloof? I don't trust her."

            Ah, it was the issue of trust. "What about the professor, Logan and I?"

            "You guys saved my life. It's different. Look, every friend I've ever made back at the orphanage turned their back on me when they discovered I was a...mutant. They shunned me, and called me a freak. I just...just find it hard to trust people again."

            "She is a mutant, just like you Scott. She'll understand what you are going through, and how you feel about this."     

            "She's a rich kid. She doesn't understand what's it like to fight for every breath, helpless and alone. She has parents who care for her." He looked away. They were touching on sensitive topics. "She's a regular Ms Perfect, I bet." _Plus, she's a telepath._

            "How different does that make her from you?"

            "A lot of difference."

            "Scott, you have to look past appearances. Jean's really nice once you get to know her."

            "She's a redhead. They're known for their notorious temper."

            "See, there it is again. 'No man is an island' Scott. Human beings are sociable creatures; we need friends in our lives. Sometimes you just have to let go, and trust that we will catch you when you fall. You can't expect to receive in return for nothing. Think about it."

            Ororo left Scott in the kitchen as she went to tend to her rose bushes. 

            Scott pondered her words over his now cold breakfast. The message in a bottle washed ashore on his deserted island.


	3. Floating Candles

Title: Finding Solace  
Author: extra_ter2estrial  
Pairing: S/J friendship  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Shared grief bridges two worlds.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel and Warner Bros. I don't own them (though I wished I did).

Author's note: Currently suffering writer's block, so chapter 4 won't be up for quite awhile.

Dedicated to Wen, for her kind words. :)

***

Chapter Three: Floating Candles

            A week had passed since Jean arrived at the institute. Scott had been dodging all chances of actually meeting the redhead, thankful for the fact that he at least had school as an excuse for socialising. Scott had no intention of making friends somewhere in the near future.

            It was a Friday afternoon when Scott made his way back to the mansion after school. Given his unique ability to recognize patterns and compute trigonometric and geometric relations highly accurately, Scott found Trigonometry highly boring that morning (they were just touching on the basics), and was really looking forward to the weekend, minus the Danger Room practices of course, although he was now starting to think the latter more interesting.

            As he made his way up the steps of the institute, he caught sight of the redhead passing through the foyer. A weird feeling started to stir within him. Was he deliberately trying to avoid her as he did not feel like being around people, or was it something else? He recalled (rather embarrassingly) that his first reaction at the top of the stairs that afternoon when Jean arrived was _"Wow"_ spoken in awe. He quickly replaced that dreamy faraway look on his face with a scowl that read "leave me alone, or else". He walked up the stairs towards his room, bumping into Jean along the way.

            "How was school?"

            It really irritated Scott how she could radiate energy and happiness all the time. He did not feel all that happy, and just wanted to be alone.

            "Humph." Was his monotonous reply.

            He left the redhead standing in the corridor, and closed his door behind him, a little too loud. Jean took the hint, and left.

            _I just thought we could be friends?_ She wondered.

***

            Scott lay on his back, staring up at the stark white ceiling. He thought about what Ororo said that morning. _Trust._ Did he trust her enough to befriend her? Being a telepath and all. He was not sure he trusted Xavier implicitly either. That aside, what else would an upper-middle class girl have in common with a military brat like him? She was way out of his league. Furthermore, did he trust himself? Due to the nature of his head injuries causing him not to be able to fully control his powers with his mind alone, one small accident could cause serious hurt, and not to mention property damage. He certainly did not want to hurt his friends, or any other person for that matter, thus the best solution was to avoid them.

            _Well, it could get quite lonely without anyone to really talk to. Besides, she looks kinda cute with the red hair and freckles and...wait, what am I saying?_

            Scott gave himself a light slap across the cheek. The thought of him falling for the redhead was quite laughable.

            He rolled over and glanced at the clock. It read 4.30 pm. _Ah, the joys of Danger Room practice, _he mused sarcastically.

***

            "What are you? Your momma's boy? C'mon, ya gotta be able to hit harder than that."

            All of a sudden, images flashed before his eyes. Scott had been suffering flashbacks recently, and they were getting more frequent. _Not now!_ He saw his mother, though the memory was vague, he still remembered her radiant smile, and her soft but firm touch. Her touch lingered on his cheek, before he shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of the images. He picked himself up abruptly, a little disoriented.

            Scott lunged forward and gave it all he got, but Logan managed to block or dodge every single one of his attacks. He was getting really frustrated, and was not able to concentrate fully on his training session. Logan seized the chance and landed a blow in the direction of Scott's ribs, trusting the boy would block his manoeuvre. But Scott did not. He skidded across the floor a little, clutching his sides in pain.

            Up in the control room, Xavier clearly sensed Scott's distress and lack of concentration and halted the training session. "That's enough for today Wolverine. Let the boy rest."

***

            With sore ribs added to his repertoire, today was definitely turning out to be one of his worse days ever, plus, it was only the beginning of the weekend. He winced as he ate his meal in silence, glancing up warily at the redhead sitting across from him, shooting him concerned glances.

            "Are you feeling alright? The ribs must hurt a great deal."

            "Who said anything about me getting hurt?"

            "Well you certainly did at today's Danger Room practice."

            "How did you know that?"

            Jean shrugged.

            "I didn't give you permission to enter my head y'know!" His pent up frustrations got the better of him, and he finally vent his anger on Jean.

            "I didn't mean to...it's just, you were projecting so loudly...I couldn't..." Jean returned to picking at her food. Just then, Ororo entered.

            "I heard some raised voices. Anything going on in here I should know about?"

            "Nothing." Both replied, noncommittal.

            Ororo eyed the both of them suspiciously. Scott and Jean avoided each other's glance, as well as that of hers.

***

            Later that night, Scott found Jean crying by the boat dock. He approached as silently as possible, certain that her loud sobs would drown his footsteps. Suddenly, Jean's head perked up in Scott's direction. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

            "What do you want?" She croaked in between sobs.

            Scott found it was highly impossible to sneak up on a telepath. He held up both hands in front of him in defence, expressing no desire to do any harm to her. "I want to apologise for what I said over dinner."

            Jean returned to sobbing, albeit a little louder.

            "Jesus, what do you want me to say? I already said I was sorry." Scott spat out a little too harshly than he intended to. In truth, he was totally freaked out at the sight of the crying girl.

            "Just go away." It was an audible muffle. She was choking, bordering on a wail.

            Scott was beginning to feel really bad (and guilty at the same time) for Jean. "I'll go get Ororo."

            "No...don't! Just, just leave me alone...I'll be fine."

            "You sure?"

            Jean just sat there, knees bent close to her chest, arms folded over them, with her head buried in her arms.

            Scott backed away slowly. As he was walking back to the mansion along the small winding dirt track, a nagging voice behind his head insisted he turn back. He gave in about halfway back to the mansion and turned around.

            By the time he got back to the boat dock, Jean's sobs had quietened. He stood in a distance, watching on.

            "I thought I told you to go away." Her voice was still quite shaky.

            Scott was terrified that Jean was going to start all over again. "I couldn't just leave you here...in this state. I mean...I was worried that you might do something stupid, like jump into the lake or something."

             She turned to stare at the lake for a moment, and Scott feared she might actually consider his words.

            "Look, I'm really sorry about just now. It's...I had a rough DR session this afternoon. But you still shouldn't have barged into my head like that."

            "I told you...You. Were. Projecting." Jean enunciated each word carefully. "Do you know just how hard it is to be a telepath?! To keep hearing voices in your head?"

            That teary-eyed look was very much like Alex's. Scott tried to suppress a flashback.

            He sat himself down beside Jean. "I'm sorry. I'll try to work more on my shielding next time, okay?" _Please, anything to make her stop._

            "Apology accepted." But the tears still kept on flowing. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, with Jean still crying, but silently now.

            Her crying was beginning to bug him, but he just couldn't leave her here. Screaming was not going to help either. He tried for a softer approach.

            "You wanna talk about it?"

            Jean gave him an inquiring look.

            "I mean you still seem quite upset."

            "Sometimes, I just hate being a telepath."

            "Why?" _It sure beats the hell out of being only able to shoot destructive force beams from your eyes, Scott tried very hard to shield that thought. "I mean it's a formidable power, and it's easy to conceal, unlike mine." __And useful. He gestured to his shades._

            "I felt Annie die."

            "Come again?"

            "My best friend Annie. I felt her die. It was really horrible. It was like being inside her head, literally _feeling_ her life draining away from her, and you were being pulled in the vortex as well. Just because my telepathy happened to manifest at that instant she died." Jean started to cry again. Scott put an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. She cried onto his shoulder, wetting his shirt sleeve.

            Finally, Jean regained her voice. "That week, Annie turned eleven. I was ten. It was in the evening when we were still out in her yard playing frisbee. Mom was calling me back for dinner, but we just wanted to play. I shouldn't have thrown the last frisbee, but I did. A gust of wind blew the frisbee off course and it landed on the road. Annie ran to retrieve it, but she didn't see the speeding car turning that sharp corner. The next thing I knew, she was flung onto the kerb, bleeding profusely. As I held her in my arms, I felt her calling out to me. The world turned black for a minute, then, there we were, sitting in a dark corner, a light shining down from above. It looked eerie, but it just had that familiar, comforting presence of Annie. We sat there, holding hands and talking, just like old times. I don't know how long I sat there...until I heard someone call my name. I turned my head. Then Annie started disappearing, blown away like dust."

            "And that someone?"           

            "Was Professor Xavier. He helped me out of my catatonic state. I sorta zoned out for two years, until I finally regained consciousness. Then, my telekinesis manifested, as if my telepathy wasn't bad enough. My parents were at a loss, and my sister hates me now, some part of her fearing she would become a mutant, just like me."

            Scott did not really know what to say. He just responded by absently rubbing his palm up and down her back, in large circles.

            "Today's Annie's birthday. It just reminded me of too much..."

            Talking about one's loss seemed to be the topic of discussion that night. Scott figured since Jean shared hers, he should with his too. "Me too."

            "You...you felt someone die too?" Jean knew it was a stupid question, but it escaped her before she could even think.

            "No, not exactly. I saw them die, and it left an equally horrible feeling too."

            Now it was Jean's turn to lend a listening ear.

            "When I was eight, my parents, my brother Alex and I were flying back from Alaska on my dad's private jet after visiting my grandparents. Something went terribly wrong with the plane, and it caught fire. Maybe a fuel leak, I don't know. The parachutes caught fire, and my mother only managed to salvage one from the flames. She urged me to put it on, and then strapped Alex onto me. She assured us Dad and she would be fine." The tears started forming, but Scott was grateful for the fact that his blasts incinerated the tears before they rolled down his cheeks. There was no way he was breaking down in front of a girl. He continued, voice a little strained. "As the plane dived nose down, Mom gave us both a kiss on the cheek each, before pushing us out of the plane. The last thing I remembered her telling me, was to take good care of Alex." He paused. "I was frightened, my hands were clammy, and in my haste, I pulled on the tab too soon. The altitude was too high, and we were too close to the burning plane. My parachute caught fire, and we were tossed about by the turbulent air currents, falling faster than we should have. In a distance, I saw the plane explode in mid air, and felt the impact of the explosion. We were spinning out of control. When we were going to hit the ground, I suddenly shot a huge blast, creating a depression of mud and soft soil. I used my body to cushion our fall, protecting Alex. I must have hit my head on a rock or something, and was out cold."

            "Ouch." Jean winced at that image. "So, you ended up here? Is that how the professor found you?"

            "Not exactly. That was just the beginning of my misery. I woke up in a hospital after being in a comatose state for four months. I was constantly transferred from orphanage to orphanage. No one wanted the kid with the brain damage. When my mutation manifested, it scared the s*** out of me. I ran away, and was subsequently found by the professor." 

            "So, did you ever find out about Alex?"

            "I tried, but they declined to reveal anything about him. Till now, I don't even know whether he made it through..."

            "I'm sorry..."

            "It's just, I've been having frequent flashbacks as of late...Sometimes, I feel that I've let Mom and Dad down. I didn't keep my promise to her..." A painful lump was forming in his throat. "...if only..."

            Scott was radiating huge waves of emotion -- sadness, fear, guilt -- which Jean picked up mentally, and silently. She leaned in closer, and put her arms around his shoulders. She sensed in him, the want to cry, the need to just release years of suppressed guilt and regret.

            "Let it out if it makes you feel any better..."

            "I..." He was just too proud to.          

            "It doesn't make you less of a guy if you cry y'know."

            So for the first time in years, Scott sat there letting the tears leak out from his closed eyes. As he did, Jean thought about how shared grief could bridge two completely different worlds. She thought about loss, hers of Annie, and Scott's of his family...and of gain... And thus, two friends found solace in each other's presence out on the boat dock that night. 

***

            The next night, Jean went strolling along the shoreline of the lake. Scott was nowhere to be found in the mansion, but she felt his presence somewhere out there. Her venture out was half due to the urge to find him. As she walked in the direction of the boat dock, she saw little glitters of yellows and oranges afloat on the water's surface, a slight wind rippling the calm surface. Curious, her pace quickened as she wrapped her jacket tightly around her. The night was beginning to get chilly.

            "Scott?" Jean addressed the dark silhouette, crouching at the edge of the boat dock. Beside him was a small pile of tea lights in little "boats". 

            He turned to look at the redhead. "Jean, I didn't hear you come."

            "Whatcha doing?" She approached him, standing by the pile of tea lights.

            "Floating candles. Fourteen, as a birthday memorial for Annie. The ones you saw were for myself, as a symbol of letting go. I've been dwelling on my grief for too long, I guess it's time to set myself free."

            "Could I light Annie's candles?"

            "Sure." Scott gestured to the pile beside him. "I saved hers for you. I thought you might be coming." _He had secretly hoped she would._

            Jean smiled softly. "Thank you Scott, for this."

            "No, thank you, Jean."


	4. Pink Lilacs

Title: Finding Solace  
Author: extra_ter2estrial  
Pairing: S/J friendship  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Shared grief bridges two worlds.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marvel and Warner Bros. I don't own them (though I wished I did).

Author's note: This was written between 11pm to 2am. This was written one and a half days before my exams started on Nov 10th. By the time I ended this fic, it was Nov 9th. I should've been studying when I wrote this fic. But because the bunnies wouldn't go to sleep, I had to write this. Stress apparently stimulates creativity. And this chapter turned out to be longer than I'd expected, so it's technically half of my originally planned chapter. Anyway, enjoy.

(Post Nov 10th: Apparently, the stupid paper was easier than I'd thought it would be. And, what happened to all the JOTT fics?)

***

Chapter Four: Pink Lilacs

            "Paul, can I ask you a question?"

            "Yeah?"

            "What," Scott lowered his voice to a whisper. There were just too many people in the locker area. "Do you get a girl for her birthday?"

            Paul let out a small gasp, then squeaked, "A girl? Why would you want to...unless..."

            Scott abruptly slammed his locker shut, startling Paul and a few others around him. Silencing Paul, Scott dragged him by the arm over to a quiet corner.

            "We're just friends. Besides, I've only known her for a couple of weeks. So?"

            "So what?"

            "Her present!" Exasperated, Scott threw his arms into the air, drawing the attention of a few passers-by. He tossed a sheepish grin in their direction as they headed off. "You've gotta help me man, I'm getting quite desperate."

            "When is it?"

            "Tomorrow."

            Paul's eyes widened for a second, then shook his head. "You need serious help."

            "You're my only hope."

            "No, you need help." Paul tapped Scott's left temple.

            "What's wrong with a gift from a guy to a girl?"

            "Nothing. It's just, you're a guy, she's a girl...word gets around fast y'know."

            "Then, what about brothers giving sisters gifts?"

            "That's different Scott, they're siblings. Brotherly love is different from, y'know, l-o-v-e."

            Scott groaned inwardly. This conversation was not getting him anywhere.

            "The present, Paul."

            "Right. Who's the lucky gal?"

            "Jean. Happy now?"

            "Whoa, the redheaded spitfire? You've got guts." Paul had gotten to know a little about Jean through his conversations with Scott. Lately over the past week, it was almost all he talked about. Something was definitely on, the first hint -- denial.

            "Look, I like her as a sister. Just answer my question will ya?"

            "Okay, okay, geez. Erm...girl stuff."

            "Like?" Scott prompted.

            "You know, stuff girls like."

            "You aren't exactly helping."

            "Figures. Go talk to the girls. They can bring you shopping." Paul tried to stifle a chuckle. A frustrated Scott was definitely amusing to watch. All this for a girl.

            "Do you have any sisters?"

            "Nope, only an older brother. Though...do female cousins count?"

            "Whatever. So, what do they normally get for birthday presents?"

            "How should I know? Presents come wrapped in something called wrapping paper. You might want to note that they come in frighteningly fanciful floral patterns."

            Scott just wanted to strangle Paul. But before he processed another thought, Paul continued.

            "Perfume?"

            "She's turning fourteen for Christ's sake!"

            "Flowers? Chocolates?"

            "It's a birthday, not a birthday date!"

            "But that's what my brother got for his girlfriend on her birthday."

            "Augh, you're impossible." Scott threw his hands up in the air again. This time, he hit someone in the arm as she passed by. And apparently, she dropped something rather bulky and heavy. Scott looked down at his feet at the outrageously pink and frilly book. Some of its contents, loose slips of brightly coloured paper, had fallen out. Scott reached out to pick it up, but the girl got to the book first.

            "It's okay, I've got it." She spoke quickly, her mumbles fairly audible. She clutched her book possessively, then hurried off.

            Scott eyed her retreating figure curiously, eyes locked on the pink book. For one, pink is a hue of red.

            "Scott?"

            Scott was still staring blankly in the direction the girl scurried off in. "Paul, what was that?"

            "What was what?"

            "That yucky pink thing. It looked like she was ready to defend it with her life."

            "It's called a diary, Scott. Girls write and doodle all their girly stuff in it." Paul shuddered at that thought. He remembered reading one of his cousin's diary which he found laying around his aunt's house, and received a good spanking from his horde of female cousins (all sisters), for a deed deemed sacrilegious.

            Suddenly, an idea dawned upon Scott. "C'mon Paul, we're going shopping."

            This time, Paul retaliated. "No way, you're on your own on this pal." With that, he scampered off.

***

            Scott stepped into a gift store, wary of the stares thrown in his direction. At least ninety-five percent of the shoppers were female, he noted. He took a deep breath and searched hastily for his intended objective. At last he found them, thankfully chucked in one discrete corner. But, to his horror, a whole shelf of those pink frilly stuff.

            Scott shrank back in fear. And he could not help it if his eyes were attuned to anything coloured red.

            "Lord help me." Scott prayed.

            After five minutes of analysing the products on sale, Scott came to a conclusion that there were only a few minor variations. Apart from being all sorts of pinks, some had lace and frills on the edges, some had patterns printed or stitched on the cover, most had locks and about two-thirds were scented. Scott quickly decided on one that was mildly pink. It had 'Diary' printed across the cover in some fancy block and glossy print, some delicately embroidered flowers on the bottom right hand corner, and a lock, which he decided was quite important. And, at least it was not heavily scented with that of rose which was overpowering. It was mild, but Scott did not recognize the floral fragrance. _Must be some exotic type,_ he hoped.

            The cashier looked at him funny, but did not say anything. Scott had his purchase paid for and gift wrapped (he heeded Paul's recommendations). Then he was off lest he be questioned.

***

            "So, when are you guys coming down?" Jean asked into the phone. "Aww...come on Mom. I can't come home as of yet. The professor says I'm not ready to be around a whole lot of people. The shields are holding, but their barely strong enough. I've had help because my room is psi-shielded." Jean was thankful for that, that she was able to finally have quiet, peaceful slumbers.

            "Jean, your dad and I are kinda busy. Sara has school. And it doesn't help that your birthday happens to fall on a Tuesday. And we have this social gathering thing on Wednesday night..."

            "But, don't you wanna come see the institute? You'll like it."

            "Yes dear, it's quite splendid. Your dad described it vividly to me." Elaine's tone spelled disinterest in the subject.

            "Mom..." Jean was bordering on a whine.

            "This year isn't any different Jean, besides, you've got all your friends at the institute. I hear they've been treating you well." Elaine secretly hoped it was the case. "Your presents will arrive on time at the institute, so no worries there."

            "But, it's not the same without you guys. Can't you just take a day off or two? Please?" Jean was literally pleading, and Elaine hated it when people started begging for favours.

            "Jean Elizabeth Grey! Don't you use that on me. Everyone's busy right now, we just have to compromise."

            "You don't want me home because I'm a mutant. You don't want to be around mutants." Jean held back a sniffle. She had not expected rejection from her family to be that strong.

            "I thought we were over that topic already. Don't be selfish Jean."

            "I'm being selfish?! I'm your daughter, this is my birthday!"

            "You watch your tone of voice young lady!"

            Jean could not take it anymore. She flung the telephone right across the room. With her telekinesis. Why did her conversations with her family, or rather her mother, always ended up in heated disputes? Could a parent love her daughter less because she was different? She finally collapsed on the steps in tears.

            "Jean?" Ororo approached the stairs. "I heard raised voices. Are you alright child?"

            Jean looked up, tears welling in her eyes. She immersed herself into Ororo's embrace, and permitted herself to sob a little louder.

            "They're not coming." Jean managed in between sharp intakes of breath. Hiccups accompanied.

            "Do you really want them to be here?"

            "Yes, I mean they're family right? I mean...I don't know..." Another sniffle as she looked up into Ororo's eyes.

            "Sometimes, child, family is who you make them to be."

            At that moment, the front door opened.

            "You're late Scott." Ororo pointed out.

            "Sorry, I had to pick something up."

            "I think I'll go to my room." Jean stood up, wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, and took to the stairs.

            "What happened?" Ororo noted the look of concern on Scott.

            "She's just upset that her family couldn't make it for her birthday celebration tomorrow."

            _What could possibly be more important than the happiest day of the year of her life?_ Scott wondered.

***

            Scott could hear distinct cries coming from Jean's room. He knocked on the door softly. "It's me. Can I come in?"

            "Just go away."

            "Well, at least tell me who it is that had you so upset, so I can go beat the crap out of them, if it makes you feel better?"

            The door opened, revealing a dishevelled Jean with reddened eyes. "I bet you couldn't outlast a verbal sparring with my Mom."

            "You'll never know if I never tried." He smiled. Her sniffle turned into a slight giggle.

            "Atta girl. You ain't gonna look pretty with swollen, puffy eyes tomorrow if you keep up with the crying."

            "Flattery will get you everywhere Scott." At least she was smiling now, and that was a good sign.

            "So, you wanna talk about it?"

            "My parents and Sara are being jerks! They won't come because I'm a mutant, you're a mutant, Ororo's a mutant. Everyone here's a mutant." Jean fell onto her back on her bed, and stared pointedly at the ceiling. "Sometimes, I wish I didn't have to be different."

            "They're afraid of you Jean. Afraid of mutants. Fear drives people to do crazy, unbelievable things. Fear shuns people like us who are different." Scott bit his lip. He knew all too well the feeling of being rejected. "At least they still talk to you."

            "But, it feels like I don't know them anymore. They sound oddly different, yet familiar." Jean rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows. She picked at the fabric of her pillow. Scott sat down on the bed beside her.

            "You've gotta to give them time to adjust to the changes Jean. Hell, I'd be as traumatized as them if I were in their shoes."

            "I wouldn't think so Scott."

            "How would you know?"

            "You're not like the others."

            "That's because I'm different, like you. I'm just one of the minority dwelling in the acceptance of others just like you and me."

            Jean sighed. "What's there to be afraid of me? I think I'm more afraid of myself."

            "I think," Scott leaned in closer, "that humans are afraid we mutants are going to take over the world." Scott added a pinch of evil laughter, just for the effect.

            With that, Jean burst out laughing at Scott's impersonation of a supreme evil being bent on world domination. "No way! There're like, so little of us! It would take an army of us to take 'em down."

            "Not in a few generations. Mutants are increasing at an exponential rate."

            Jean looked at him as if he grew another head. "Speak English Scott."

            "Look at it this way. If humans gave birth to mutants, and existing mutants in turn also gave birth to mutants, wouldn't the world be populated with more and more mutants, and less and less humans?"

            "So you're saying, humans are an endangered specie in time to come?"

            "I'm postulating in another twenty to thirty generations."

            "How do you do those nifty mental calculations in your head?" Jean rapped at his skull.

            "Dunno? Maybe it's part of my mutation?"

            "A mutation that's useful for exams, that's not too bad."

            "That coming from a telepath."

            "Telepathy would constitute as cheating y'know Scott."

            "Not unless you can alter their minds to make them think you didn't cheat at all."

            "The professor will know."

            "But isn't those shield thingies supposed to mask your presence from other telepaths as well? Y'know, when you're strong enough."

            Jean opened her mouth, then closed it. She stared at Scott for a while. "I should introduce you to Mom."

            "Hmm...we might be at it the whole night."

            "I would love to see it. The showdown between Scott Summers and Elaine Grey. But don't worry, I'll be rooting for you. Payback for Mom." Laughter filled the room for a few whole minutes.

            Then, Jean crawled up from her present position to give him a huge, squishy hug.

            "What's this for?" Scott stiffened a little at the contact.

            "For making me feel a whole lot better. Not many people can manage quite a feat you know."

            Scott was grinning like a fool. He had survived the wrath of Hurricane Jean, and tamed it.

            "Listen, erm...I got you a gift. I don't know whether you'd like it now, or you'd rather wait for tomorrow."

            Jean's eyes lit up at that statement. "Ooh, how very sweet of you! You do realise the others will know Scott Summers is going soft." She punched at his arm lightly.

            _Only for you red._

            "Of course I'd like to have it now! Where is it? Where is it?" Right now, Jean was squealing like a four-year-old, bouncing on the bed.

            Scott dug into his bad and pulled out an oblong package wrapped in sparkly paper. Jean grabbed it, and started ripping one corner off. Scott just stared.

            "What?"

            "I thought only guys tore up wrapping paper."

            "Oh." With that, Jean started attacking the sticky tape on the opposite corner instead. But after two minutes of picking at the tape, she gave up.

            "Friggin' piece of tape. Now I know why guys tear up wrapping paper. And, it so much funner!" 

            Scott tried hard to suppress his laughter. Temperamental and impatient. Paul was right; he did have a lot of guts. _Wait, what am I thinking?_

            "Hmm? What did you say Scott?"

            Scott snapped from his daze. "Oh, nothing."

            "Wow, it's..."

            "Pink."

            "Pink?"

            "Isn't it pink?"

            "Doesn't look pink to me."

            "Looks pink to me."

            "Scott, it's lilac."

            "Oh."

            "Don't worry, I'm not a big fan of pink."

            "You struck me as one of those 'pink' girls."

            "Eww...I'm not those girly girls Scott. But anyway, it's really nice. Thank you." Jean fingered the embroidery. It had a mild scent too. "How'd you know I like lilacs?"

            "A stab in the dark I guess." _What's a lilac look like anyway?_ "The rose-smelling ones irritated me." _Noted.__ Jean likes lilacs._

            Jean got up and walked to her desk. She picked up a pen and started scribbling something on the first page.

            Scott walked over and peered over her shoulder. She shot him a glare.

            "Scott, it's a diary."

            "Yeah, so?"

            "It's private."

            Scott didn't budge.

            "Meaning: You're not allowed to look so go away?"

            Scott gave her a slight pout. "Well, at least let me write you a happy birthday note in it, so you'll know who it's from."

            Jean thought about it for a second. "Alright. Here, on the back of the cover."

            Scott picked up a pen (he was certain it was a pink glittery one) and the book, and held it close to him. He proceeded to write in a neat, engineer's script.

            "No peeking Jean." Scott pondered a while on how to sign it off. He finally settled for a simple 'Scott'. He blew at the ink, making certain it was dry before closing the book and returning it to Jean.

            Scott picked up his bag and headed for the door. "Happy birthday in advance Jean."

            "You're attending the party right?"

            "Of course I am. Wouldn't miss it for the world." He closed the door silently behind him, leaving Jean to indulge in the privacy of her own thoughts.

            Jean flipped open the cover. "Scott Summers, you wrote it in pink!" She mused fondly, reading his words over and over again. That was until she noticed a tiny smudge just before his name. "Darn." Jean picked up that same pink pen Scott wrote in, and drew a small heart over the smudge. "There, that ought to fix it nicely."


End file.
